Jonah's Journey
by pam j aulio
Summary: The panic attacks haven't gotten any better since middle school. Not really. It doesn't help that Andi broke up with him. But Jonah finds comfort with the help of his best friend-maybe more than friend... Jyrus. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey everyone, so this fic is set a couple years into the future—the gang is in high school, yada yada yada. I knew I wanted to write a Jyrus fic, and the thought of a more mature tone and setting became appealing as I started to brainstorm. While I think Jonah and Cyrus have massive potential, I am personally not a huge fan of this show in its entirety (gasp!). I definitely support AM as a front-runner for representation, and it certainly has an audience, it's just not my cup of tea. I really just watch it for Cyrus' and Jonah's storyline, so it was an interesting experiment placing these two in a setting more my speed and style. Anyway, read and review, I own nothing, yada yada yada, hope you enjoy!**_

It was happening again.

 _AGAIN._

Sweating and dizziness. Tingling in my fingers. Shortness of breath. _POUNDING_ heartbeat.

Panic attack. I, Jonah Beck, was having another panic attack. On just the second day of sophomore year. Oh God...

I stood in front of the mirror in the boys' bathroom, and it was all I could do but fall over.

Not sure exactly what triggered this one—it just seemed so incredibly crowded in the hallway during passing period this year. Too many people, too many voices, too much noise—It was impossible to even _think_.

These kinds of episodes had been assaulting me since middle school. I had hoped they might eventually just... stop as I grew up. When they first started to happen on a regular basis, I had wondered... _will this still happen to me in high school?_

Spoiler alert: Yep. All the freaking time.

 _Junior year? Senior year?_

Hope not.

 _College?_

If I even make it to college.

 _Forever?!_

It feels hopelessly, brutally unfair that dwelling on the idea of panic attacks inevitably leads to more panic attacks.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe normally, blindly and awkwardly reaching for the faucet so I could splash water into my face in an attempt to cool down.

Sessions with Dr. Sáenz, a "specialist," had proven fruitful. For a while. The coping mechanisms worked, the episodes stopped, and I felt like my normal, confident, happy self. All was well.

Until Andi broke up with me at the end of freshman year.

Beautiful timing.

Just as I was wrapping up what had seemed, all things considered, to be a spectacularly successful first year of high school, a fresh start, she dropped that bombshell on me. Our complicated relationship had always been on-again-off-again, but this time, we were " done for good," according to her. The way she said it made me realize we really were.

I was inconsolable for a couple of panic-ridden days. Why did she do it? Was it something I said (again)? Something I did ( _AGAIN_ )? Was I still likeable? Was I "boyfriend material"?

In the end, she claimed it just wasn't working out. Enough was enough. We were "irreconcilably different people." There was certainly some truth to that, but I'm not sure it was the whole story. I liked Andi—she's cute, funny, entertaining—but when we were dating I was always uncomfortable around her. I would overthink every sentence, every action, every possible decision, trying to figure out whether I was "doing it right." How do I boyfriend? That was always the question. I found it difficult to talk to her and really open up. Difficult to show any of my affection toward her. Difficult to make progress in our relationship.

In other words, _I_ fucked it up. Just the way I seemed to fuck most things up.

I managed to take in a fairly big breath and relax my trembling arms. My head bowed and my eyes still closed, I felt the dizziness gradually subside and my heart rate steadily slow to normal tempo.

"Jonah?" asked a sudden familiar voice.

I nearly jumped, turning my head toward the entrance to the bathroom.

 _Shit._

"Oh... uh... hey, Cy."

Cyrus Goodman stood facing me, one dark eyebrow raised in what appeared to be both confusion and concern. I was used to it—Cyrus has been a good friend of mine since middle school, and considering my panic attack history, I'd seen him wear the expression countless times. The _clothing_ he wore was apparently brand new, however. He had taken my fashion advice and run with it—hell, he must have received further consultation from the girls, because his wardrobe had received a complete _overhaul_. Also considering the facts he had filled out over this last summer, and had started to regularly visit a hair stylist, I had to admit Cyrus looked _good_. Really good. At this point, I honestly wasn't sure why he seemed to have trouble finding a girlfriend.

Cyrus took a step toward me. "Wait, are you having a... is this a... _you know_..."

I was grateful that he still knew better than to shout it out, announcing my affliction to the world, even though we appeared to be the only ones in the bathroom.

I turned to grab a paper towel and tried my damnedest to play it cool. "Don't worry about it."

"I thought you said they stopped... Does Dr. Sáenz know about this?"

I didn't want to talk about it. So I didn't.

"I said don't worry about it. It was nothing."

"Jonah, come on, you know you can talk to me... I don't think any less of you or anything, you know you need to tell _someone_ if they're happening again..."

I stared up at him.

Yeah, _up_. Cy was slightly taller than me now. His large, chocolate eyes always gleamed with a whirlpool of emotion. And today I couldn't take it. He was worried. But why drag someone so good into my hellish world of torment?

My mouth curved into a fake smile. "I'm fine, really."

"Is this about... Andi?" he asked.

He knew all about it, of course, but we hadn't discussed it in great detail over the summer. I'm sure he figured I didn't want to—and correctly so.

I shook my head. "No, dude, that was months ago. I'm over it! Geez. I'll see you in math."

Truth be told, I _was_ over it. Andi and I _did_ have our differences. It never felt right. But the break-up hadn't left me in a great place. What did people think of me? Being dumped equals a decrease in popularity points, I was sure. Jonah Beck, the Love-Life-Lacking Loser. Would I ever find another girlfriend?

I brushed past him toward the door. A beat later, he pointedly half-whispered, "I'm still your number-one fan."

I kept walking.

Classes for the rest of the day were uneventful and boring. Did I already say boring? Mind-numbingly _BORING._ That's how it usually was for the first week of school. But I wasn't going to complain—boredom certainly beat anxiety.

I only shared one class with Andi this year, which was for the best. It was the last class of the day, history with Mrs. Perlman.

 _History_. Ironic, right?

Mrs. Perlman, I could already tell, was no good. An old, jaded crone of a woman with a perpetual frown adorning her wrinkled face. I had heard other students calling it the "Perlman Pout." She was a humorless, no-nonsense, straight-to-business kind of teacher. In many ways, that was actually better than the young teachers who tried too hard to relate to you, always asking personal questions in a feeble attempt to win you over and basically become your friend or something.

When I arrived in the history classroom, I saw that Andi was already seated, along with Cyrus and Buffy, in the back corner of the room. Andi looked up at me and gave a half-hearted smile. I awkwardly shifted my gaze and turned to take a seat in the front row, farthest corner.

Not that I was a fan of history, or anything. I just also wasn't a fan of awkward proximity to a certain ex-girlfriend to whom I had not spoken since our breakup.

"Okay, students, take a seat and turn to page 8 in your textbooks," said Perlman in her monotonous yet strident soprano. She apparently never used powerpoint presentations, videos, or anything. Just lectures and passages from the textbook. _Thrilling_.

I wondered what Andi was thinking. Was she staring at me? What about Cyrus and Buffy? I was sure they had inferred there would be some tension. I fought the urge to turn around or even take a sideways glance.

"Mr. Beck!" shrilled Mrs. Perlman.

 _Shit_. She already knew my name?!

"We just started class and already you're unable to pay enough attention to follow basic directions?"

I looked down at my desk. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I had not yet even pulled my textbook out of my backpack. I swallowed. "Sorry, Mrs. Perlman. Wh—which page?"

I was great at making first impressions with teachers.

I tried my hardest to stay focused for the remainder of the class period. Every once in a while, I would turn my head, slowly and nonchalantly, so that I could glance backward toward "The Good Hair Crew," as Cyrus insisted they be called. I guess it made sense now more than ever. Andi and Buffy were looking down every time I peeked back, hard at work taking notes. Or maybe just doodling.

But I caught Cyrus' eyes. They still showed concern, but at the same time, inexplicably, reassurance.

And the despair in my world lessened, slightly, pushed away by the fiery determination in those sparkling eyes.

One corner of my mouth lifted ever so slightly.

He smiled back.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day at school, before classes start, I pass by Cyrus in the hallway.

"Jonah!" He walks toward me. "Hey. Um, how's it going today?"

I lightly nod my head. "I'm all right."

He beams. "Good. Hey, I have something for you!" He takes off his backpack and starts to unzip it, while I look on in curiosity.

He pulls a freaking ukelele out of his pack.

It's simple, small, even for a ukelele, but beautifully crafted, with a body made of dark wood. He hands it to me, and I don't know what to say.

"I know music helps you calm down, so I picked this up. It's no guitar, I know, but it's small enough fit in your backpack, so you can carry it around with you wherever you go, just in case... you know..."

I just shake my head, my mouth agape. "Jonah, this is... I—I don't know if I can..."

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "You don't want to talk about it, I get it, but if you're too stubborn to help yourself, I _will_ help you. That's what friends do. You can trust me with anything. You know that, right?"

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and feel myself grinning instead. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Thank you, Cy."

He smiles, saying nothing more, and we head down the hallway toward our lockers, which are conveniently located in the same row, fairly close to each other. I've almost finished my combination when I suddenly hear him swear.

"What the?! Oh, son of a bitch!"

 _Holy shit._ Cyrus Goodman doesn't just curse on a whim. His locker is open, but by the time I make it to his side, he's quickly closed it shut again.

"Cyrus? What is it?"

He shakes his head and sighs, one hand combing through his hair. "Forget it. I... uh... I just... apparently forgot some homework on my desk at home."

I could see a flush creeping up his face. _Was that all it was? Just forgotten homework?_ I nod, deciding to drop it, and think nothing further of it, turning back to my own locker.

As we walk toward the first class of the day—algebra, which we have together—I lightly test the strings of the ukelele, adjusting the tuning a little as I go. I suddenly think of the fact that it's been a while since we've played frisbee together.

"Hey, it's supposed to be nice outside this afternoon," I say. "Do you maybe want to head to the park after school for frisbee?"

"Do I _maybe_?! Do I _definitely_!" he answers immediately.

I smile. "Docious magocious!"

He groans in mock annoyance and embarrassment, but his smile betrays him. "Seriously, man? I thought you stopped saying that in eighth grade!"

I laugh. "No, come on, you _love_ my old expressions! Don't you, _Cy Guy_?"

He glares at me.

By some miracle, the rest of the day goes relatively well. Mr. Greenfeld almost confiscates my ukelele in algebra, so I decide to keep it hidden in my backpack for every class, despite the fact that I want to look at it closer and get a chance to really play it.

When it's time for history, the Good Hair Crew gets to Mrs. Perlman's class before me again. As I walk in I glance at Andi, But this time she's not looking back at me. She's talking to Walker, who's sitting in front of her, and suddenly she's laughing, and—

Wait. Are they flirting?!

I quickly turn away and head to the same desk that I sat in the day before, suddenly uncomfortable. But as I try to get through class, I just can't ignore it, dwelling on what I just witnessed. It shouldn't matter, but why can't I ignore it? We broke up. She can flirt with anyone she wants to, I don't care. Why would I care? And I don't blame her, Walker is a talented, funny, good-looking guy.

An upgrade over me, that's apparent.

I guess she's moved on—isn't that for the best? Why would it bother me? I force myself to tune into Perlman's piercing voice just to prevent myself from getting too worked up.

After class is finally over, I make a beeline for the door and head to my locker. I half expect Cyrus to be right behind me, but I turn around to see him still in lively conversation with Buffy, Andi, and Walker. I turn back around toward my locker and pretend to busy myself organizing my notebooks and textbooks.

He finally walks to my side a minute later. "Alright, Jonah, you ready?"

"Totally. Let's go."

He walks with me, but briefly turns his head back to the group of three heading the other direction. It looks like he's about to say something to me, but he closes his mouth, apparently changing his mind.

At the park, we drop off our stuff on a bench and I quickly pull a frisbee out of my backpack, trying to catch Cyrus off-guard. I run out into the grass and throw the disc back toward him. He looks up and flinches backward, but has a hand up to make the catch at the last second.

I've taught him well.

We toss back and forth, attempting increasingly skillful throws and trick shots, and it feels great to occupy my time doing something so familiar and carefree, keeping my mind away from... anything else. We make running passes, and keep going until both of us are panting, exhausted, especially considering the late summer heat of the September afternoon.

"Just like old times," he says, stopping with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "Why didn't we do this over the summer?"

 _Because I didn't want to be around anyone_. I ignore the thought and shrug. "Yeah... good question."

He pauses, looking down. "You know, The Good Hair Crew misses you, Jonah. We haven't talked in a while... You and Andi... you can still be friends...I'm sure she's open to that..."

I'm suddenly frustrated. Why does everything lead back to this?

"Can we just... play frisbee?!" I don't mean to snap, but I just... I don't feel like talking.

He stares at me for several seconds, frowning at first, but then drops it. The corner of his mouth slowly turns upward into a mischievous grin.

"I don't know, that depends... can you—"

He suddenly hurls the frisbee and it flashes out to my right, forcing me to lunge toward it in order to make the catch, nearly throwing me off balance.

"—keep up with me?!" he finishes, running away in another direction.

I feel my mouth opening in a wide grin, then launch the disc toward him and sprint in pursuit.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey everyone, I know this has been a tough couple of weeks for Jyrus, but I decided to continue with this fic. It's a slow burn, but I promise it'll pick up soon! Read and review! Thanks!**_

* * *

He's swearing again all of a sudden. "God _DAMMIT_! Are you _kidding_ me!"

I quickly turn and head toward his locker. "Okay, Cy, you have to tell me... What's going on?!"

He just shakes his head. I raise an eyebrow, questioning, refusing to break eye contact.

He pauses, and finally sighs, surrendering, opening his locker door all the way so that I can see into it.

Inside, there's a lot of loose paper that someone has slipped through the vents.

A lot. The sheets are just about spilling out of the shelf inside.

And covering each sheet, in aggressive red ink, are crude homophobic slurs and drawings—some mild... most vulgar.

I freeze, my jaw dropping and eyes narrowing in confusion.

"What the?! But—"

 _Holy shit holy shit holy shit._

Is it true? Is he? Could my best friend, Cyrus Goodman, be... ?

"Jesus, Cyrus, this is awful! I mean, why would—"

I look at him, my mind racing at a million miles an hour, and quickly transition to a different question. "Wh—who did this? Who _could_ _have_ done this?!"

He frowns, throwing his hands up. "Like _I_ know!"

 _Holy shit holy shit holy shit._

"So this has happened before? It's... it's what happened the other day?"

He scratches his neck, clearly uncomfortable, but nods. "Almost every day this week."

I shake my head. "That's horrible. We've got to figure out who's responsible and put an end to it. It doesn't even make any sense..."

I keep trying to nonchalantly read his reactions, and get nothing, other than the fact that he's obviously upset.

 _Holy shit. Holy freaking, flying shit._

I exhale, and then reach into his locker, gather up all of the papers I can, and rip them to shreds before stuffing them into the nearing trash can.

"Forget it, Cyrus. It's stupid. I don't know if someone is playing a sick practical joke, or trying to spread rumors and... crazy shit about you, or something else, but in any case—don't let any... deranged _ASSHOLES_ who clearly have too much time on their hands get to you."

He looks down, his cheeks flushed. "Yeah. It's... just... Don't worry about it."

I frown, worried despite his request. "Yeah... yeah, okay." I sling my backpack over my shoulder. "Let's go."

He nods, gathering his things, and we start down the hallway.

If it _is_ true... How long has it been true? How did I not know? Cyrus hasn't had any girlfriends since Iris way back in eighth grade, and all this might explain why that relationship seemed to just fizzle out... He's always been close to Buffy, but she jumps around from boyfriend to boyfriend... I thought he might have a crush on _her_ , or maybe he was just shy, or wasn't looking for a relationship... But is it possible that he's had some _boyfriends_ and never told me?

"So," he says, probably trying to change the subject as quickly as possible, "you wanna sit with our group in history today?"

I shrug, even though we both know I really don't want to, and the reason why.

"You know, I think... I think Andi would like that," Cyrus suggests. "To be friends with you again. To know how you're doing."

I say nothing, and when I feel my pulse start to speed up, I fight the urge to reach into my backpack for my ukelele in pure desperation.

 _Seriously? Just the thought of talking to her is making me anxious?_

Or maybe it's this whole locker business with Cyurs. But why would that make me... anxious?

I'm a _mess_.

When it's time to head to history, I walk to the classroom and try to steady my breathing. I ignore the people, laughter, and conversations all around me, just focusing on my path to the classroom.

I think Cyrus is right. Andi smiled at me on that first day. And considering her flirtatious behavior with Walker, she's definitely over me.

 _Just give it a shot, Jonah. Time for YOU to get over it. Why shouldn't you still be able to be friends with her?_

And suddenly I'm in the doorway to the classroom, and I can see them in the back corner. I exhale, steeling myself, and tentatively walk toward them.

"Jonah!" exclaims Buffy amicably. "What's up!"

"Hi, Jonah," says Andi, giving a sheepish smile. "Good to see you."

"Hi, Andi," I reply, returning the smile. "Uh... yeah, you too."

Cyrus is just beaming at me, and that's all it takes for the tension to ease out of me. There's still an awkwardness hanging in the air, but in a weird kind of way, I feel... at home, for the first time in a long time.

"Nice ukelele," Walker says.

I look down to my right and am surprised to discover I'm clutching the instrument. I must have pulled it out of my backpack while walking down the hallway. It's like it's becoming a... coping mechanism of sorts, without me even having to play it.

"Oh, uh... thanks. Cyrus actually gave it to me. It's a nice one."

"So," Cyrus interrupts, in his typical fast, expressive cadence, "it's supposed to be even _MORE_ sweltering outside this afternoon than it has been all week, and I thought we all might benefit from some relaxation in the pool at my place. I already asked my parents, and they're okay with everyone coming over if you're all up for it."

I always seemed to forget that Cyrus' family was _LOADED_. The sizable pool behind their... mansion (what else would one call it?) was operational year-round, and the enclosed area surrounding it also included a built-in hot tub and a small pool house.

"Uh, hell yeah, we're in!" said Buffy.

Andi and Walker smiled at each other and nodded in agreement. Then everyone was suddenly waiting for my response.

"Jonah?" questions Buffy.

"Oh, uh... well, I, uh..."

"It'll be... refreshing!" says Cyrus.

"Yeah, come on, Jonah!" insists Buffy.

I shrug. "Okay, cool."

"Alright then," says Cyrus, grinning.


End file.
